Christmas Scrooge
by ChaoticCrazy
Summary: When Killer Croc escapes during the Christmas season, who will he fall for? Crocx?. May be changed to an M rating due to violence. Decided to make a surprise of it.
1. Chapter 1

Christmas Scrooge

Chapter 1

It was the 12th of December in Gotham City, and due to the weather, nobody was outside, the snow was pouring, and the city streets were devoid of life.

Yet such circumstances made it perfect for a prison break.

Two guards were viciously hurled out of a cell, taking along with them a severely mauled steel door with them.

Killer Croc smiled as he walked out of the door. Unusually no alarms sounded. But then again, Arkham Asylum was known to have the occasional winter power outage.

He brushed a speck of blood off his dull brown vest as he walked, picking up one of the guard's sidearm, and checked it for a full clip before setting it inside his inside vest pocket.

As he glimpsed at the weapon, his mind silently registered it as a Beretta 92FS pistol, and a 15-round staggered magazine when he saw the mag. Almost like the one he held at his side in the Corps.

He briskly walked down the aisle, oblivious to the voices of the other inmates that resided in the asylum. His tail brushed along the floor as a smile appeared on his reptilian face. His body was lean due to lack of food, but underneath his scaly hide were whipcord-like muscles that were strong enough to dent steel with ease.

He briskly walked down the staircase, and as a confused guard looked up from the bottom of the stairs, he quickly pulled out the pistol and pulled the trigger once.

The round tore through the guards head, and without a sound, slumped to the floor, dead.

As the reptilian criminal stepped over the dead body, he searched the body and found another magazine for the Beretta pistol and slipped it into a pocket on his vest.

As he prepared to make good his escape, a loud thump was heard off to the side. He turned his head and noticed Poison Ivy slamming her fists on the glass wall covering a side of her "special" cell. Due to her power of controlling plants, they removed from her cell anything that was plant-like, kept a wall made of glass for constant surveillance and bolted down everything in her room.

By the looks of it Ivy looked to be in poor condition. Her rose-like hairstyle was now a wild mess of hair, and her normally green skin was unnaturally pale. As well as all of that, her normally powerful pounding was rather weak, with her attempt to slam at the wall somewhat half-hearted.

He knew the sight all too well, for during past imprisonments he was occasionally left in her cell whenever he damaged his own cell, partly because he had a lesser chance of damaging the cell as well as his doctors hoping that he would possibly kill Ivy, or vice-versa.

He would have normally have called it was a simple acquaintanceship, but when Ivy had mentioned the fact that they were friends, he had to for once agree with her.

As he stared emotionlessly at his friend, he finally heard words emitting from her mouth.

"Croc, get me out of here!" she repeated, almost pleadingly.

He started to turn away, until he heard her use a term he had not been called in a long time.

"Waylon!"

He turned his head to the side, exposing the left side of his face towards her, his scar over his eye evident.

He stood for a moment in thought. He had connections to his rather large organization of crime at the docks, but once word gets out of his escape, that would be the first place they would look, as well as looking into his underground home in the sewers. But then again, would they seriously think to search for him in another villain's home? Even villains had a code amongst themselves, with the only person that would even think of breaking being the Joker, for obvious reasons.

He raised his pistol and fired two rounds.

The two bullets spat from the weapon, the first one hitting the composite glass and leaving a massive circular crack, and the second one landing almost on top of the first one's impact, shattering the glass into a brilliant dust.

The event was surprising enough that Ivy did not have time to move away from the wall she was pounding on, and fell to the ground in an undignified heap.

Croc, not bothering to see if his friend was following him, strode down the corridor once more, opened the door at the far end, and reached the security room, with live camera feeds and a room where all the guards normally were in when relaxing.

There was only one two people there, a male guard standing off to the side, and a young woman in the seat in front of all the surveillance camera feeds.

He quickly grabbed the man, snapped his neck before he could fire his firearm, and threw the dead body onto the woman, effectively pinning her to her chair, as well as giving him enough time to rip the microphone attached to her ear and smashing it beneath his foot.

As the young blonde squirmed in her chair, staring at the apparent monstrosity looking at her, he turned away to look at the door within the room, which read ARMORY in large capital letters.

He turned towards the woman.

"Tell me how to open the door or I will do what I did to the weight holding you down." He snarled menacingly.

"C…C….Card…ID card…on…belt…." She shakily replied, nodding her head at the dead body on top of her.

He quickly strode back to the two people, ripped the card off the dead body, and turned the chair around before walking to the door and opening it with the card.

The door opened to show a room with enough weapons to keep a company of soldiers fully armed.

He strode to the far corner of the room, with a few shelves marked Confiscated Weaponry, and pulled his familiar Mossberg 500 shotgun off the rack before turning around to view the other selections available.

He grabbed a bag of shells for the shotgun, followed by yet more clips for his Beretta pistol, and then, out of instinct from the Marine Corps, grabbed a M16 off the rack, as well as a few clips, and then spied a model of pistol that he last saw only as a child, and it being in the possession of his patriotic but drunk father, and so grabbed an old Colt 1911 pistol off the rack, with only the clip already inside it, and slipped it into his jacket as a memento.

As he stepped out of the room, looking even more menacing with all the weapons and ammo on him, and spied Poison Ivy standing at the door, looking at the dead body and scared woman with contempt.

"I thought you had a no survivor's policy." The teenage villainess said.

"Well, look who's talking. The villainess doing all the killing for the environment." He answered with a growl, before ending the conversation with a blast from his shotgun, blasting apart the control consoles that controlled the surveillance video, purposely leaving only one section unscathed.

He walked to said section, and hovered a clawed finger over a red button.

"Here goes the neighborhood." He snarled out loud. "And may Gotham tremble at my actions."

He then pressed the button.


	2. Escape!

Escape!

As soon as the red button was pushed, an eerie creak could be heard throughout the asylum as every cell in the asylum sprung open. The purpose of such a button was so in case a major disaster that could endanger all the lives of the asylum, all the occupants had a chance to escape.

A large pad blinked on below the button, showing where every cell was located and with a button that says whether to close or open them.

Killer Croc then clicked three buttons to close the doors on three cells. The first cell belonged to none other than the Joker, and even though he would be a menace, he knew that if the Joker was loose with the rest of the villains, their would be no way to control the crime in Gotham, hence causing him to lose profits by other black market organization popping up to get business. Also, the Joker was, simply put, insane, which was definitely the reason Arkham was built.

The second cell was for Harleen Quinzel, or Harley Quinn, withheld due to her close relationship with the crazed Joker.

And then finally, the third cell that was closed contained the huge and extremely strong Bane, since Croc was rivals with him. There rivalry had first started when Bane had tried to kill the Batman, and with Croc being in the way he had broken the villain's arms.

Weeks later, his arms still healing, Croc encountered Bane yet again in the sewers of Gotham, hell-bent on revenge. He had been beaten again, beaten within an inch of his life, but he had inadvertently given Batman and his crew a few minutes to escape Bane, not knowing the entire conflict until a year later.

No, he contemptuously withheld Banes freedom, just as he had done to him years ago, since in breaking his arms the only doctors willing to patch him up were the doctors of Arkham Asylum.

The criminals of Gotham swarmed from their cells, and en masse caused a battle throughout the asylum.

As Killer Croc strode through the door to exit the control room, he pulled out his shotgun and headed for the front gates of Arkham, with Poison Ivy reluctantly following, not wanting to be caught in a war between crazed villains and equally dangerous security guards.

As the duo reached the main hall, with the only thing separating them from freedom being two curving staircases, a large hallway, and two large double doors, the hall erupted into a battle.

Villains burst from the halls leading to their cells, wreaking havoc as well as death as security guards fought back with weapons normally meant for the military.

Croc indifferently walked down one of the staircases, shotgun across his chest as he walked, kicking away the occasional corpse that littered the stairwell.

Suddenly the large chandelier on the top of the hallway crashed down in front of the reptilian criminal, broken apart by Man-Bat, who flew from above, crushing both villain and guard alike.

Killer Croc looked down in vague curiosity as the serial killer, Victor Zsazs, stared up at him from underneath the chandelier.

His body was pierced through by a multitude of crystals from the chandelier. He brought his hand up, which held a bloody knife, making a stabbing motion, a pleading look in his eyes.

In reply, Croc raised his shotgun and pumped a shell into the killer's body, blasting his chest and head apart in a merciful death.

The reptilian crime lord pumped his shotgun once, bringing a new shell into its chamber, and continued walking.

Poison Ivy, however, looked at the scene, and using a plant nearby, controlled it to lift her into the air, and using the plant as a make-shift vine, had the plant wrap itself around her and lift her across the room, landing gently at the double doors moments before Killer Croc arrived.

"Now why follow me, hmm?" Croc growled, but a hint of humor was in his voice as well.

"Same immediate priority as you." She cheekily answered.

"Good, then you might want to step back." He replied, and as Ivy took a step back, he brought his foot up and kicked down one of the large double doors.

"After you." He sarcastically said to his friend.

"Boy, you guys are so typical." The prominent eco-terrorist retorted, giving a loud huff before strutting out the door.

Killer Croc took a step out the door before turning around, firing a few shells at guards that tried to escape through the newly-made exit, and then when no immediate threats were around, he grabbed the door and slid it back in place, and then placing a nearby bench in front of it, setting it on its side, and then pondered for a moment on how long it would take the raging occupants inside to notice that they had left.

As he turned around he was greeted by the sight of a large parking lot, full of a variety of vehicles to choose from.

Also, Poison Ivy had transitioned from her orange prison suit and into her more "natural" form, with a plant-dress hugging her body. She also had a large smirk on her face.

"What's so funny?" he growled, proud that, for once, he had singlehandedly escaped Arkham Asylum, as well as released most of the dangerous criminals of Gotham in one go.

"Do you want to stand around until you freeze to death? Or even worse, the Batman?" she countered with a question of her own, her lips pursed in victory.

He turned away, instead looking at the vehicles, thinking about which one would be least conspicuous and could handle his size without leaving a noticeable dent inside the car.

He then decided on a black SUV that, miraculously, was unlocked. He then opened the vehicle and set himself in the driver's seat, and quickly found the spare set of keys, which was in the cup holder to the right of his seat.

He glanced up mildly in surprise as he saw that Ivy had seated herself in the passenger's seat.

"So what's your plan?" she asked.

"Now why would you need to know?" he questioned.

"Well once they find out that I've escaped, my botanical garden will be the first place the will look."

He shook his head in disbelief as she mirrored his own thought about ten minutes ago in the control room, and knew her idea had merit.

"They most likely will not, since their will be too many other criminals on the loose for the police to head for your place. That is, as long as you keep a low profile."

She shook her head understandingly as he turned the ignition on.

"So unleashing the crazies was part of your plan?"

"Nope, just an added bonus to cover our escape."

"Well, I was right at least on knowing you weren't _that_ imaginative." She replied, a smile creeping on her lips.

"Good, then now that Arkham's behind us, we're going to your place."

"My place?" she suddenly yelled, a shocked expression on her face. "Are you crazy?"

"Not at all. Besides, since I'm a crime lord and black market dealer, my organization over at the harbor will be one of the first places the cops will look."

Poison Ivy sighed, letting the irony of the statement sink in her mind.

"You are on of the craziest yet sanest guys I've met." She muttered under her breath.

"Thanks you." He sarcastically replied, exiting the parking lot and turning towards the city of Gotham just as the Gotham City Police Department arrived on another road that entered the parking lot, and forming a car barricade surrounding the asylum.

None of the cops noticed the tail-lights of a lone black Cadillac Escalade that was driving away…


	3. Unwanted Visitor

Unwanted Visitor

The botanical garden enclosed in a large green house was situated on top of a five story abandoned warehouse, starkingly beautiful compared to the two deserted warehouses which took each side of the building.

The black SUV pulled into the warehouse by driving up the loading ramp, the door opening to the warehouse almost eerily.

The car was parked silently, and its two occupants escaped the confines of the vehicle, and slowly stretched their muscles, Ivy showing it more visible by bending her body back and stretching her arms up in the air. Croc, however, merely shrugged his shoulders a few times.

As Ivy started to use the old rusting elevator to get to botanical garden, Croc used the more strenuous stairwell, and reaching the top, gasping for breath only slightly at the same time that Ivy reached the top.

As Ivy was about to step forward, Croc moved an arm to bar her way.

"Someone's already here." Croc hissed, and pointed with his shotgun at a shattered panel of glass, which was broke into jagged pieces.

As Croc and Ivy then cautiously entered the botanical garden, Croc caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.

Ivy simply started to control her plants, which became large vines and dangerous man-eating plants, and the vines quickly covered the garden, plugging up the opening in the glass and barring the use of the elevator or stairwell behind them.

A few moments later, a sharp cry burst forth as the intruder was caught.

As the intruder was brought into the light, Ivy shook her head.

"What did I tell you Jonathan all those years ago? Didn't I tell you not to break and enter my home?"

The struggling intruder then sharply replied "First of all, you know my reasons for doing so, and second of all, do not call me by that name you tree-hugging bitch, I'm the Scarecrow! I am the bringer of fear, the dreaded destroyer of the mind, the…!"

"Aw shut up." Killer Croc interrupted, his face evidently showing an exasperated expression. "Ivy, drop the Scarecrow, and second, call her a bitch one more time and I'll change my mind and give you some Southern hospitality, ya hear?"

Ivy grudgingly complied, and Jonathan Crane, in his grotesque costume, back-pedaled until he noticed the plant he was looking for. He swiftly grabbed a small plant that looked extremely exotic, and then rushed into the shadows, cackling in a crazed manner.

Poison Ivy, meanwhile, withdrew all the vines and plants until only the vines that covered the opening in the glass remained.

She then seemed to look exhausted, and turned towards a small building set in a corner of the garden.

Croc, meanwhile, pulled out a cell phone he had found within the stolen SUV, and dialed in a number.

The receiving person picked the phone up on the second ring, and an important conversation began.

"So how's the market?" Croc asked.

"It's been doing fairly well, Boss." A gravelly voice answered.

"Good. Any sign of power-hungry subordinates?"

"None, Boss."

"Good. Say, I'm over in the Downtown District, at Ivy's Place. When can you get a chopper here without attracting any unwanted attention?"

"Well Boss…" the answering caller replied, and seemed to be shorting through some folders and the typing of a computer was heard from the other side of the line, before the receiver replying about five minutes later, "…Earliest I can find is ten days from now with a chopper that you can fit inside."

"_Ten_ days!" Croc roared, his voice gaining an edge for the next sentence after he calmed down slightly, "Fine. But don't you dare overdue it like that time in '03!"

"Alright Boss…" the henchman on the other side replied. "But let me say it again, it wasn't my idea to get you picked up in a Mil-24 Hind, it was Fred's."

"Fine, but don't disappoint me, Vance, or else you'll get some real Southern hospitality, with a nice little visit to the gators, and a trip into becoming an ingredient in my Mammy's home-style Gumbo."

Croc then hung up, and then crushed the cell phone with his foot, his statement clear as well as the final word on his part.

Killer Croc then over the course of a quarter of an hour parked the black SUV into a shadowy part of the warehouse, on the second story, and hiding it well enough that anything less than a lengthened search from a window could see the vehicle.

He then left the Colt pistol and M16 inside, though he kept the magazines on his person, since who knows if anyone would somehow acquire the weapons.

Most people believed he was nothing but a dumb reptile, but after tonight he would never be taken as such. And besides, he wasn't as dumb as he looked after the crazy doctors stopped the devolution of his mind after a quite painful session of electric shock "therapy." He would pay almost anyone to see those scientist dead.

Besides, he had already illegally shown his prowess with his black-market dealings and personal squads of bank robbers, paid 15% as a squad of whatever they robbed, as long as it was from a bank. Already Croc's organization was one of the best and most feared amongst the civilian population, with the only competition coming from Black Mask's larger organization of crime and the Joker, due to his rather insane acts of crime.

He smirked as he strode back into the botanical garden, and decided to sit down against a pillar that held the greenhouse up, before slowly nodding off to sleep, and even then his sense of smell and hearing were keen enough to alert him of any disturbing noises, a skill he had learned in his time in the Corps.

And so the two criminals slept in peace, unaware of the mayhem happening as they slept at Arkham Asylum.


	4. Arkham Aftermath

Arkham Aftermath

The eerie dark of Arkham Asylum was long gone as the lights in the asylum flickered all around, shadows from within seen from outside, and if it weren't for the screams, laughter, and large portion of the Gotham PD, almost half of the total force, it would seem almost like a high school party.

The police surrounded the building, many of them pointing at any shadow that appeared in the windows.

One such window broke open, and out flew the carcass of a dead doctor, which even then was hit with three rounds by the cops before hitting the ground.

As the SWAT team, comprising of a dozen heavily armed and armored policemen, entered the front door of the Asylum, pulling away the bench turned on its side and kicking down the broken door, as well as firing a large bust of fire inside for anyone that tried to escape, be they staff or criminals.

As the small group cautiously entered, most were revolted by the carnage that resided within. Bodies of both criminals and staff were scattered throughout.

The large chandelier was covered in blood, and underneath were the bodies of two doctors, a security guard, two petty "insane" criminals, and the infamous Victor Zsazs, blown apart that the only way of identifying him was a severed hand, still clutching his trademark kitchen knife, and the scars all over his body signifying each murder he had committed.

The surviving staff, consisting of barely a dozen security guards and four doctors, rushed down the stairwell, rushing down so quickly they passed the SWAT team and throwing themselves on the ground outside, just quickly enough that a burst of pistol and shotguns rounds flew above their heads from the trigger-happy law enforcement officers.

As they started to sweep through the rooms, a minor firefight ensued, though after a period of time they quickly found many criminals still alive, who reluctantly returned to their cells. Two SWAT members however headed for the control room, and as each SWAT officer told them over the radio which criminal had returned to their cells, they closed them.

After three long and vicious hours and scanning each level of the asylum, from the sewers to the roof, they had returned nearly all the criminals that had survived to their cells.

From the criminals that they could identify who were dead, as well as the mutilated Mr. Zsazs, Cluemaster, Maxmillian Zeus, Spellbinder, numerous petty criminals deemed insane, and Scarface, who had his head blasted apart and Arnold Wesker unconscious due to being hit hard in the face, form the looks of his smashed glasses.

However, quite a few villains remained missing, including the Riddler, Poison Ivy, the Mad Hatter, Killer Croc, Man-Bat, and the Kabuki Twins, who were actually serving time so as to be transferred to an Oriental prison in the Himalayas in a few weeks, from what the bloodied records in the administrative office showed.

As the Gotham PD patrolled the immediate area, a lone figure landed on the rooftop of Arkham Asylum.

The figure moved through the asylum unnoticed, evading all the cops that patrolled through the area, soon reaching the control room and finding what he was looking for. He recorded all the cameras with everything they recorded over the entire night, as well as checking to see which criminals had escaped, before exiting the room.

As he reached the roof of the asylum through the exit hatch, a voice broke the silence.

"I knew that you of all people would show up, Batman."

The Dark Knight of Gotham whirled around, only to calm down as he saw that the person who found him was Detective Ellen Yin.

"Long time no see, Batman." Yin replied.

"Same here, but I'm not here for pleasantries…" Batman started to say, but was cut off by Yin.

"Yes, I who you're here about the incident in Arkham. The perpetrator was…"

"Killer Croc, I know." Batman finished.

"I wasn't about to say that, but thanks for answering the question for us." Yin smirked.

Batman narrowed his eyes, knowing he had foolishly been tricked into giving out information.

"Hopefully you can apprehend some of the escaped convicts for us, Batman." Yin continued. "The faster we can round them us, the faster the boys at HQ can get to have a family Christmas to go to."

"You can count on that, though some would be an understatement." Batman replied, before he turned away from the detective.

Just as Batman launched a grappling hook which wrapped around an unknown object, Detective Yin ended things on a cheery note.

"Have a merry Christmas Batman."

He paused for a moment before replying.

"Same to you."

He then flew into the night of Gotham, another shadow in the dark and dreary air, and in a hidden spot he jumped into his Batmobile before speeding off into the night.


	5. Breakfast

Breakfast

The sun broke the horizon, signaling the dawn, and the city of Gotham stirred once more.

Killer Croc became alert immediately, and due to his hunger, went hunting, careful not to disturb Ivy as he passed her room.

Of all the things that coincided with his more primal nature, the hunger for meat was the one he could not destroy.

He had two choices of what to eat that could satisfy his stomach. One, obtain a large chunk of meat that was warmed and was approximately the size of a cow's leg, or two, human flesh.

His logical side was telling him to obtain cow meat, but his cannibalistic side urged him to seek human flesh.

He slowly concentrated on letting his logical side take over. He slowly strode down to the ground floor of the warehouse, and slipped into the sewers through opening a large pipe in the wall.

As he entered the watery sewers, he was immediately in his element. Setting aside his shotgun and pistol within the dry region of the pipe that he went through, he slipped into the water, searching for an easy place to steal some food without getting caught.

_Somewhere in Downtown Gotham_

Killer Croc burst from the floor of a bathroom in downtown Gotham, making sure he made as little noise as possible for the intrusion.

He opened the door slowly, and peered into, as he predicted, a small butcher's store.

He silently stalked all fours to the meat locker a few yards away, and as he opened the door, he said to himself "I'm in chow heaven."

He drooled slightly at the sight of meats of all sizes and shapes were before.

He quickly went to the beef section and chowed down on a cow leg immediately, devouring it in less than a minute.

He slipped the bones into a pocket in his jacket before grabbing a thick rope meant for meat when the chain and hooks were unavailable.

He tied two pieces of cow meat, a whole turkey, and a long line of sausage and wrapped the rope and the sausages around his body, Poncho-Villa style, before exiting the freezing room and closing the metal door as softly as he could manage.

He quickly surveyed the room for security feeds, and only saw a lone security camera pointed at the door of the establishment.

Luckily he made barely a sound on his way in, and he warily did the same thing back to the bathroom.

Careful not to break any more tiles, he set whichever tiles were intact back in place after he closed the door and jumped back into the sewers, and whichever places were left he put the damaged ones in, before putting an old moldy plank in the waters underneath the entire section.

He then chuckled slightly as he made his way back, voraciously treating himself to a few cold sausages.

As he headed back the way he came, he noticed a figure in the corner of his vision go into a tunnel in the sewers.

He stealthily followed, and in minutes he saw that it seemed to be a lone robber, with a black ski mask, a revolver, and a rather large sack that was rather full.

As Croc followed he accidently caught up with the robber when he reached a dead end.

As the robber turned around, he was spotted.

"Who the hell are you, freak?" the criminal snarled, pointing his revolver at the reptilian. "Get out of the way before I give you some lead."

Croc narrowed his eyes. He was definitely pissed off.

In a few seconds, three things happened at once.

First, Croc rushed at the robber, charging very quickly.

Second, the robber fired off three rounds, two of which missed completely, and the third drilling into Croc's vest, which turned out to have kevlar woven into it, stopping the bullet dead in its tracks.

And third, Croc had pinned the robber to the wall, a clawed hand pulling the hand that held the weapon with such force that it was torn off, leaving just a bloody stump.

"I'm your worst nightmare." Croc whispered under his breath, before literally devouring him alive, in which the criminal gave a short scream which was suddenly cut off a few moments later, and the remains being a bloody stump clenching a revolver in its dead grasp, a pile of torn clothes, and a large sack of money that was taken away moments later.

Croc took the sack of cash and hauled it over onto his shoulder, and then walked back to his temporary hide-out, pausing only to wipe way the blood and gore around his muzzle.

* * *

A merry Christmas to all who read this on the 25th of December, and for those who read this afterwards, a happy New Year

sincerely,

ChaoticCrazy


	6. Caught

Caught

Croc slowly slid himself from the sewers, meat in one hand and his shotgun hefted in the other. But the only difference was that he had decided to visit his hideout during the day, and the meat smelled from all the hours in the sewers. Darkness was apparent, and it was nearly midnight. He strode forward, confident nothing had changed.

And just as quickly he slunk into the shadows as he thought, no, _knew_, something was wrong. The giveaway was that the car was gone. It was no longer in the warehouse.

Second, he heard voices coming from upstairs and from the front of the warehouse.

As he peered at the front entrance, he saw flashing lights. Cops.

He hugged the shadows of the warehouse before rushing up the stairwell, taking it three steps at a time, dropping the meat as he went and loading the shotgun.

The criminal kicked down the door with years of practice, and fired a shell into the room. Nobody was there.

Rushing through the garden, Croc noticed the jagged hole on one glass panel and jumped out.

He turned just in time to see the shadow of a certain bat fly above him and jump onto a nearby rooftop.

Immediately he dived for the shadows, barely making it in time to silence his fall and from the gaze of the Batman.

He saw the caped crusader looming on top of a gargoyle set along the roof of the building, and he watched in horror as he spied the cable hanging from the gargoyles jaws.

The dark knight had captured Ivy.

In rage, he raised his shotgun and fired at the shadowy hero.

The click of the trigger was just enough to allow Batman to avoid the shot by jumping, and then throwing a Batarang at Croc, knocking his shotgun out of commission by slamming into a piece of metal that allowed the pump to slide, halting the pump and making the weapon temporarily unable to reload.

Knowing he id not have the time to pull the object off, Croc dropped his shotgun and charged at his enemy, teeth bared and claws turned into fists for the fight to come.

Punches and kicks were exchanged, with Croc's strength equaling the Batman's agility.

They fought along the length of the roof-line, the advantage swung back and forth between the two.

Batman pressed the advantage, trying to take out the crocodilian criminal with a few well-placed blows, while Killer Croc soon was on the defensive, using his tail as a barrier between him and the Batman, though even then he had to deflect a few blows.

Searchlights lit up from below, and illuminated the pair, and shouts were heard from below.

"Open fire!" a police officer yelled, but Commissioner Gordon contradicted him.

"Hold your fire, you might hit the Batman!"

The Commissioner rushed into the warehouse, drawing his revolver, only to look in surprise as Detective Yin was already rushing up the stairs, police-issued pistol in hand, running up the stairs two at a time.

"I'm seriously too old for this." Gordon exclaimed, sighing. "I seriously wish I could pull back the clock three or four decades."

Gordon then took the stairs, but only at a step at a time.

Batman, meanwhile, was beginning to tire out. Even his years of physical, mental and spiritual training was beginning to fray as his normally-long endurance was cut down due to his fight with Poison Ivy earlier.

Croc, however, still had plenty of fight left. He had plenty of energy due to his crocodilian body, which gave him great endurance, as long as he didn't push himself too much.

He knew that he couldn't kill the Batman, that much he knew. If he did, the fun of an opponent worthy of him would be gone. Besides, who else would keep Joker and the other crazies in line?

He suddenly found an opening, and gave Batman a strong right hook, sending him reeling from the blow.

Seeing it better to make his escape, he ran, deciding it would be faster to move on all fours over his two feet.

At a loping pace, he passed his shotgun, grabbing it and pulling the Batarang out of it with his teeth.

Unfortunately he looked into the chamber and found out it was empty. Looking over his shoulder as he ran, he noticed a half-dozen twelve gauge shells rolling around the flat rooftop.

He silently cursed as he slung his weapon across his back and was prepared to jump over the rooftop when he heard from behind "Stop!"

He turned his head around to see a police officer pointing a pistol at him from the jagged hole in the greenhouse. She appeared asian, with black hair tied in a ponytail, and she seemed to be a good shot by the looks of her shooting stance. Even at fifty yards, he knew she had a fairly good chance of hitting him with a few rounds.

He turned to face the female, noticing at the edge of his vision that Batman had recovered from his blow and was racing towards him. He had to think of something, fast.

So he did what most others would not expect. He took on the problem, head on.

He charged at the officer, and watched as her surprise showed in her shooting, which resulted in misses, but close enough that he could feel the air being displaced by the bullets as they whizzed by him.

But just as it looked like he was going to attack the officer, he jumped.

His momentum carried him over the cop, with the only damage being a glancing blow from his tail hitting her face, and as he rolled to absorb the resulting landing and continued running, he saw that the officer had dropped her weapon and had somehow grabbed onto her tail.

Which effectively ruined his plan, partly by accident, partly by design. He jumped from the other edge of the rooftops, flying over the police cars three stories below.

But instead of reaching the other rooftop about 25 feet away with ease, the extra weight, caused him to slam into the emergency stairwell attached to the outside of the opposing building, a derelict apartment building. And slamming into the metal stair bars on the second story.

The landing made him lose his breath for a moment, but that was enough time for his unwanted passenger that followed him to cuff his hands and jam his face into the metal stair steps.

"You are under arrest, Croc, by order of the Gotham City PD." Yin told him, jamming her pistol on top of his head. "You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be exploited in a court of law."

"Yeah, well I don't really have much to say, but thanks for the offer." Croc sarcastically replied.

Then he swallowed his pride for once. "But can I ask you a favor?'

"What?" Yin sighed in exasperation, her moment of triumph fading away.

"Don't tell anyone at the asylum, or else I'll never live down that I got taken down by a woman."

GCPD Detective Ellen Yin was confused for a moment, before bursting out into laughter, catching the attention of the police officers below, and causing a SWAT team to ascend the emergency stairwell to take Killer Croc away.

Commissioner Gordon was staring in amazement at the scene from the roof of the other building, unaware that the Batman was smiling under his cowl before slipping away into the darkness, and snow slowly began to fall as the night reached a cold temperature.

* * *

Sorry for taking so long, but I've decided to change the plotline and make a new pairing.


	7. Interview

Interview

Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, December 13

Killer Croc groaned as he was put in one of the cells that the Gotham City PD had in their main building.

He slightly lightened up though as he saw his companion in the cell opposite.

"Well, good to see you got caught." Poison Ivy sarcastically exclaimed. "For a moment there I thought ya ditched me."

"I don't leave behind debts that need finishing." Croc replied, sighing. "Well this is a new record. Escaping Arkham and then caught again in less than 24 hours."

"Well at least you weren't caught by surprise." Ivy huffed.

"You were surprised by the Batman? We were at your place for heavens sake! It would be as easy as taking candy from a baby to find out where you live!"

"Well he took me from behind and tied me up before I could attack. It is hard to fight with ripcord tied around your body. How was your capture?"

"Took the Bat and two cops, not to mention a jump."

"You jumped?"

"Yes, I was hoping to catch the cops by surprise and jump to another building and run for it. Unfortunately I got caught."

"Let me guess, the Batman?"

Waylon Jones thought for a moment, and decided to lie to preserve his dignity.

"Yes." He said rather bluntly.

"Sort of predictable." Ivy answered.

Just then a police officer came up to Croc's cell.

"Well, Jones, looks like you have a visitor. Oh, and Ivy has one as well."

Three more officers came behind the first, and the three officers took the restrained Croc to the visiting area, where the two prisoners were taken to the small visiting area set off to the side of the police headquarters, and Ivy was taken to a cell a few cells down.

Croc was mildly surprised by the visitor.

It was none other than GCTV News reporter and his crush Meredith Van Zeyl.

She was tall but petite at five foot nine, and had blue eyes and blonde hair that fell to just above her shoulders. She wore a trench coat, as well as a pad of paper and pencil. It seemed that she arrived for an interview.

Croc was set down on a wooden chair, and between the criminal and the reporter was a slide of three-inch thick glass with a layer of invisible Kevlar, able to protect the person from either side from any firearm round, tested to withstand even .308 rifle rounds.

The three cops left the room and stood outside at attention.

"Well Waylon, seems your in a fix again." Van Zeyl smirked as she spoke.

"Well, looks like we meet again. After that last incarceration, I wondered whether you had left by now."

"Well, with the financial security of Gotham as it is, I deemed it unwise to quit. Besides, I wouldn't want to lose my job so close to Christmas. But enough of me. So what did you do to get out?"

"You seriously think I'll tell you how I made my entire escapade? I bet you that the cops will read it before you leave." Croc replied, a smirk gracing his reptilian features.

"Fine then, I'll move on to the next question." Meredith sighed as she said the sentence. "So, what was your childhood like?"

"Oh boy, a repeat of the psychologist interviews. They should've sent Doctor Phil instead if this is what the news crews are reduced to asking." Croc sarcastically answered.

"You still haven't answered the question." The reporter replied, ignoring the sarcastic comment.

"Fine, I'll tell you, but its only cuz you're a better audience than those crazed psychologists over at Arkham that try to electrocute me to death for a job." The criminal grudgingly replied, and with inhuman strength, used his legs to tip his chair back, letting his legs rest on the table in front of him, and if it weren't for his superior restraints, he would've rested his hands against the back of his head.

"I was born in a poor family in the bayous of Louisiana. My mother died when I was six from a car accident, and my father was a drunk, wasting most of the money set aside for my education to get drunk on booze and beating me senseless whenever he was even slightly angry, whether it was my fault or not.

I barely made it to high school, and when I got my high school diploma, the only way I could save it from my father was to give it to the cops, and even after he got arrested for striking an officer, he got released. So, to get away from my dad, I decided to join the Marine Corps."

"How was your time in the Marines like?" Meredith asked, her curiosity piqued. She had heard about some of his childhood, but this took it to a whole new level. Luckily she had written most of the information down for later reference.

"Mostly hard work and discipline. When I joined, I told the recruiter my issue and surprisingly sent me to Paris Island to boot camp with very little paper work, doing most of the nonpersonal stuff when I was off at boot camp. I still think I owe that guy a debt, even though he got KIA back in Afghanistan.

Well, I got through boot camp, spent six years in action, made it to Sergeant, and after getting wounded in the Middle East, found out they had a program for enlisted that if they entered this scientific program for experimentation to become a "super soldier", they would get an automatic promotion up two ranks, as well as increased pay, and could retire earlier than anyone else, with a full retirement plan to go."

"What happened?"

"This." Croc said, pointing his head towards his body. "If it hadn't been for that damned experiment gone wrong, I'd be a regular human being."

"Experiment?"

"Yes, experiment. They tested the human body with genes from different animals, like tigers for ferocity, chameleon for stealth, birds-of-prey for flight, owls for night-vision, and for me, alligators for a bullet-proof hide. Unfortunately they put too much gator DNA and gave an overdose. They gave me twice as much of a dose than normal, and because of it I went berserk. After that I decided to head to Gotham, since I thought that I could make a living off of crime here."

"Well, judging from your current position, you were wrong." Van Zeyl replied.

"Yes, and now that I've given my two cents, I would like to leave in peace, without my already fiery temper going off."

"Whatever you say, Waylon. Besides, the information is more than enough for a news article." The reporter replied, and right before leaving the room, said "Oh, and by the way, good luck Waylon."


	8. Escape, Take Two

Escape, Take Two

Killer Croc was not happy as he was left in his cell again. He could've torn those cops limb from limb if he had to chance, but unfortunately the cattle prods came to play, and a few thousand volts from a few of those were not exactly motivating.

He slumped into his bunk as he mulled over what course of action to take next.

Approach the problem head-on and simply barrel his way out? Impossible. He would leave such a large trail behind even a blind man could follow with ease. Dig his way out? Nix that as well, even with his animalistic strength it would take hours to reach the sewer level, and the cops would find out easily enough. Unfortunately he had only a third option, think his way out.

Fortunately he did not have to think at all as suddenly a vine the size of a minivan tore down the hallway, taking numerous human beings with it, and Croc smiled as he saw the plant matter continue on tearing through the hall.

The villain chuckled as he pulled two bars apart before stepping out and grabbing onto the moving plant, and let it carry him away for a few moments before he threw himself away and landed in an adjoining corridor.

A cop stood before him, his unusual-looking police-issued handgun that looked more like it was supposed to be in a sci-fi flick pointed at him.

Croc more than happily took on a few bullets and barreled on through the guy, rolling on through like a train and ignoring the sickening crack of bones.

He slowed in his rampage long enough to grab onto a door handle as a brake, taking the whole door with him as he turned around long enough to peer into an room labeled EVIDENCE LOCKER in big bold letters on the opaque glass.

He grumbled as he strode through the room, and chuckled as he stopped before a skinny young man at a desk, and upon the desk was none other than his personal piece of evidence.

"I'll be taking my gun with me, boy." The criminal informed the man with a Southern drawl before picking him up by the neck with one claw. "Or say hello to becoming so Cajun chow."

The man kicked out for a few moments before he was thrown in the racks of evidence around him, coming to rest unconscious against an unyielding brick wall.

Waylon picked up his shotgun and hefted it over his shoulder as he snarled at the small piece of damage where a Batarang hit it before charging through the brick wall as if there was no tomorrow.

He charged into the police department's underground parking garage of all things, and was satisfied to see that plant matter was all around: Ivy's work.

The large criminal strolled among the vehicles, as if being picky about which on to take, before more police opened fire on him, this time the SWAT team opening up with assault rifles and submachine guns, not to mention the handguns and shotguns most cops carried.

Croc ducked behind a Crown Victoria in time to watch the windows get blown off by a few shotgun shells and cursed that his weapon was unloaded. Hell, even he wouldn't live under a sustained barrage of fire.

Luckily he saw a cop car rolling by at high speeds, apparently coming in judging from the direction it came from, and hid behind it was the driver unknowing saved his ass.

The driver was not as fortunate as the driver's door was torn off and the driver himself hurled onto the hood of a car as Croc commandeered the vehicle and put his webbed foot onto the accelerator.

The black car jumped at the sudden acceleration and screeched as Croc made complete 360, attempting to leave even as he exposed himself to fire.

He remedied the problem by grabbing a cop that got too close and held him in front of him, watching him kick and struggle against his iron grip as the police immediately held their fire so as not to hit their fellow man.

It was also a plus that the guy had a shotgun and was too surprised to use it, and Croc took advantage of it by letting go of the cop long enough to get a hold on the satchel of shotgun shells at the cops waist and hurling said satchel into the vehicle before reacquiring his grip on his victim, now holding him by the seat of his pants.

The car finally burst out of the garage and Waylon was shocked for a moment as cars zoomed by him, barely missing his own car by inches as he was caught in the other lane, and let the cop go.

The unfortunate soul hit the pavement only to get run over by an SUV a moment later, but helped the escaped convict by causing a three-car pileup, ensuring Croc's immediate escape.

The beast chuckled as he laid his Mossberg across his lap and shoved shell into it while driving with one clawed hand, before hefting the shotgun in one hand and letting it stay outside the vehicle, the wet air around pelting the steely weapon as the vehicle chaotically navigated the streets of Gotham, before coming to a stop in a deserted parking lot, where only another cop car lay in wait.

Croc killed the engine and let the car skid to a stop in front of the cop car, and got a good look at the two surprised cops inside, one eating a doughnut and another with a cup of coffee in hand, and roared in defiance as he leveled his shotgun at them and unloaded a shell into them.

One of them went down without a sound, the other screamed in pain as the pellets slammed into his bodice before Croc mercifully ended his life with a stomp of his foot only a few moments after.

Croc hauled the two bodies out of the car and decided to change his ride to the cop car; it would be less conspicuous excluding the blown-out front window.

As the cop car left the lot, Croc was already formulating a plan: screw the past idea, now he would return to his growing business of gun-running and hopefully he could bring it back into full-swing in a few nights.

His gang was only a dozen strong, but with his contacts he was able to smuggle in some of the cheapest or most high-tech weaponry that you could get your hands on, take your pick. Anything that kills a person that a man could carry, he had in store.

He pulled up to a seemingly abandoned warehouse in the harbor storage district, loaded with cargo containers that nobody knew the contents of. He turned away from those in favor of an actual warehouse building sparsely strewn across the docks, and pulled open a large set of doors.

Light flooded his vision as before his eyes he saw a dozen men in their thirties and forties helping each other haul guns from a small fishing boat and onto racks, which were also connected to rollers.

They all stared in surprise at him as he hollered "Boys, Killer Croc is back in business!


	9. Simply Business

Been a while since I've worked on this, so hope ya enjoy!

Simply Business

"I thought you said you wanted a helo pick-up, Boss!" an Italian man with numerous tattoos across his exposed muscular arms hollered. His mustache made him look almost comical were it not for the sinister knife strapped to his thigh.

"Plans change Vance." Croc snarled in reply "Especially if it involves getting caught by cops."

"They didn't follow you here, did they, Croc?" Another man, older, about late-forties spoke. He wore a brown shirt and camo fatigues with combat boots on, and a Sig P226 strapped on his thigh. A buzz-cut and a scar running across one of his green eyes was a distinguishing feature of this Caucasian mans face.

"Of course not Duke, or why else would I be here?" Croc retorted, setting his shotgun down on a crate.

"Frank, anything new you guys got your hands on?"

"Nothing much, Boss." A skinny Asian man replied, but behind his geeky black glasses he still carried a Colt 1911 pistol on a shoulder holster. "Got our hands on some surplus AT4's from a retired Army Colonel down in Mississippi, but I'd say the real prize was that some anonymous seller sold us a few crates of AA-12's for a quarter of a million dollars. Even the military doesn't have their hands on these yet."

"Good, then let's see if we've got a few buyers. How many of the AA-12's do we got?"

"My inventory came up to 50, with enough drums and sticks to give us a hell of a lot of ammo to use."

"Take four of them and put them in the gang's personal armory. The rest we'll sell to the highest buyer. So who's the first customer of the night?"

"Rupert Thorne." An African-American with a slight limp told him. "He called last night asking if we could sell him a new influx of guns. He's getting tired of using old AK's and Uzi's from Black Mask."

"Then let's give him somethin' newer." Croc smirked in reply. "I'd daresay he'll buy most of our stuff after his botched-up attempt of manufacturing super-villains failed."

A few hours later in the downtown district…

"Nice ta know you got out of the cops reach, Croc. How's business treating ya?"

"Just fine, Mr. Thorne." Croc replied from across the booth he sat in, his tail swishing back and forth slowly. "It's nice ta be back in the business after all this time."

"Speaking of business," Thorne continued, taking a sip from his glass of champagne, "What goods have you got to sell to me?"

"A few select choices, Mr. Thorne, most you will find ta be most favorable."

Croc pulled out two large black cases from under the table and set them on top of the said piece of furniture. "If I may?" he inquired as he pointed at the cases.

"By all means open them." Thorne replied, smiling.

"Well with this first case I heard that you're lacking in the submachine gun department, correct? Mostly Uzi's and MP5's, standard 70's tech. Well I bring to you two of the newest pieces of small-caliber technology."

He pulled out the first weapon with a slight flourish and set it on the table with gusto.

"First off is the TDI Vector, occasionally known by its action the Kriss. This bad boy is a modern series of submachine gun that fires the .45-caliber round, and is highly compact by appearances. With a 13 and 30-round magazine it may not look inspiring, but it has a rate-of-fire of 1,000 rounds per minute, and just the firepower alone is enough to take a man down, even a car with an extended burst. You can get these off of the black market for nearly two grand a unit due to it only being produced for two years now but from me you can get 500 of these suckers at a price of only eight-hundred grand, that's 20% off mind ya, plus ammunition."

Thorne nodded approvingly at the deal before saying "And the other?"

Croc then continued, pulling out yet another, more exotic weapon into play. "Well, while the first one is made in the US, this is a Belgian masterpiece that is more powerful than an SMG, so is considered a personal-defense weapon. This sleek compact design in the FN P90, armed with a 5.7x28mm round that is larger than pistol caliber but not quite a rifles. While it looks small, it holds a 50-round mag and can be used ambidextrously. Also, what's nice about it is that it's compact enough to be used in VIP defense or bodyguard work but is known to penetrate anything short of a rifle-caliber Kevlar vest so it's effective against anything short of SWAT."

"What's the price?" Thorne asked.

"Two grand a gun, but that includes 500 rounds with the weapon. Besides, I don't think this weapon should be the standard tech you should be carrying around, this is a specialist's weapon."

"Fine, I'll take a hundred." The crime boss replied, taking a swig from his bottle of alcohol. "What's in the other case?"

"Two types of assault rifle you should be pleased to take note of." Croc replied, popping open the other case.

"Since I'm sure you want something more effective than older AK-47's, I have two models of firearm that you may be interested in. First off is the FN-2000. This is a Belgian bullpup assault rifle, ambidextrous use and uses 30-round mag's. Whats nice though is that it's a highly modular, modern weapon system which may not be cheap enough for widespread use, this sucker will be great for your elite gunslingers. This baby can be sniper rifle, light machine gun, grenade launcher, and hallway sweeper in one package."

"Then I guess I'll take a few hundred, though it wont be cheap. What's the other one?"

"Cheaper alternatives to your older AK-47's. I have had in my possession a few thousand M4 carbines and AK-74's that are of the more modern variety, and I think I could make it worth you while if I throw in a few semi-auto sniper rifles, such as a few Dragunov's, or maybe a few SR25's and M110's?"

"You got yourself a deal, Croc." Thorne answered with a smile, taking the reptilian criminals hand and shaking it. "I'll send a few guys to pick up the gear."

"You don't even need to bother 'bout that. My boys will drop it off at any spot ya wish, as long as you don't mind it bein' done in increments."

"Ya know, I like you Croc. I like you a lot." Thorne grinned.

"It's simply business, Thorne." Croc muttered under his breath as he left the restaurant with the cases.

A guard tried to stop him at the front door for some reason, but a scaled fist smashing his skull in was more than efficient.


	10. Heist of the Hour

Heist of the Hour

December 17, Gotham City National Bank

Croc snarled in pleasure as he tore up from the sewers and burst into the reception area of the bank. His shotgun had a shell loaded in the chamber and he covered the newly-rent opening long enough for three of his subordinates to haul themselves up.

He coolly marched up to a teller while two of his men aimed their weapons at the doorway and the other forced the civilians onto the floor. Two more guys hauled themselves up from the hole, carrying ludicrously large sacks, but carried a handgun on them in case. They too added their firepower to keep everyone down.

Meanwhile he snarled at the female teller before him, pointing his shotgun at her.

"Open up the safe!" he growled out, and he nearly barked at the look of terror as the woman stuttered as she led him back towards a safe.

Thankfully he had the shotgun as he unloaded a shell into a bank employee that was waiting for him in the corridor with his own shotgun. The man was thrown back a foot and crumpled, intimidating the woman to the point of silence.

Pumping a fresh shell in, he slung the firearm across his back. He needed both hands to crack the safe. He peered behind him to see the two boys with sacks were following him closely, and intelligently did not draw their sidearms. They wouldn't need to use them if things went according to plan.

The woman showed him the safe and started to open it but he shoved her aside. With the strength of a beast, he ripped the door of the safe off and hurled it aside, barely missing the woman in the process.

He gave a toothy grin as he scanned the loads of cash and precious metals inside.

While his men got to work loading the bags full of cash, he personally took note of a set of gold bars lined up in a corner. Taking a metal box out from one of the sacks, he slid a half-dozen gold bars into the metal container. Sure they each weighed nearly 100 pounds, but he had the strength to carry them fairly easily.

As the majority of the cash was taken, he led the group out and smiled as he reached the main lobby.

That was when the gunfire started.

His head swiveled swiftly towards the front doors in time to see one of his three guards get shot multiple times by a hail of fire from a SWAT team barging in with M4's at the ready.

Another of his henchmen opened up with his own M4, but only succeeded in putting down the first one in before succumbing to the polices fire and riot shields.

The third member had already reached the hole in the floor and opened fire with his M249 SAW, keeping the cop's heads down long enough for Croc to get his two men across and literally hurling them down into the darkness before jumping in himself, using his free hand to grab his shooting cohort by the scruff of his neck and jerking him down into the sewers.

With a grace only known to a creature of the dark and dirty, the criminal dropped his box of gold onto a hand cart and had his henchmen start moving the cart loaded with riches down to another opening a few hundred yards away, where they would make their escape in an inconspicuous white van with a Gotham City News logo on the side.

Unslinging his shotgun he aimed the weapon at the hole above and waited, all the while yelling at his men to hustle before the cops brought in the heat.

And true to his word, the first SWAT officer poked his head over the hole in time to get his head shot off by a 12 gauge slug.

A few moments later a pair of grenades fell down into the sewer. Croc, noting they were flash-bangs, prudently kicked them into the water next to him to explode in the water, pumping his Mossberg, since he knew what was to come next.

Another SWAT officer tried to come through but was stopped by the shotgun once more, though judging by his yells of pain he obviously wasn't dead.

Slinging the shotgun across his back, he decided to make a run for it as he noted that his cohorts were already at the exit and hauling their bags of loot up to the van.

Covering the distance in record time he told his henchmen to get up into the van and provide cover fire while he brought up the gold.

Then the SWAT team opened up from the other end of the sewer. Tracer rounds tore through the dark tunnel, little blobs of light that appeared so harmless but deadly.

Taking the M249 from his subordinate, he raised the 22 pound weapon to his shoulder fired a stream of 5.56 ammunition at the law enforcement officers, giving his group time to escape.

One cop went down from the hail of bullets, a shot being lucky enough to hit his head. The remaining two started to fall back, still firing away with what was now wild abandon, the firepower from the mutant criminal breaking their discipline.

With the last henchman out of the sewer, Killer Croc picked up the box of gold in one hand while kicking the handcart down towards the retreating cops before climbing up the rusting rungs of the ladder, spewing lead the entire time until he ran out of ammunition as he reached the top.

Climbing out from the darkness and into the failing evening light, Croc casually tossed the gold into the open doors of the white van before tossing the empty machine gun after it before climbing into the vehicle himself.

With a resolute slam the two doors at the back of the van were slammed shut and locked before the driver casually set his foot lightly on the gas and casually drove out from the alleyway and into the street.

Only yards away police cars circled the bank, officers hustling around like angry bees.

Pulling up to a law enforcement officer the driver rolled down the window to speak with an officer.

"So what the hell happened, officer?" he asked.

The officer, a bulkier man who looked like he needed to take a trip to the local gym, replied "None of your business, sir. Now get going before I have to arrest you for disobeying an officer."

"Absolutely." The skinny Asian retorted with a sarcastic smile before pulling away into the traffic-filled streets beyond, cleanly getting away from the scene of the crime.

Back in the van, however, some of the men had doubts.

"Boss, what does gonna happen when the Batman finds out about this?" Vince asked.

"Well, when he finds out, the trail is going to lead him to the wrong guy, I can assure you." Croc snickered while pumping his shotgun, as he remembered the card he _accidentally_ dropped next to the bank vault, as well as the vial he _accidentally_ spilled onto the door that he ripped off its hinges while his boys were busy.

Well, by the time the Batman found out what happened, it would be too late…


	11. Another Brawl

Sorry for taking so long, with summer and all. Enjoy!

Another Brawl

December 17, approx. three blocks from Miller Harbor

…That was, until a shaped blade tore into the roof of the van.

Carving its way into the shape of a circle, the Batarang tore a hole into the roof of the car and the Batman dropped into the car.

Without a second thought he punched the nearest criminal in the face, knocking him out, before Croc lunged forward and wrapped Batman in his arms, slowly squeezing the life from him as he hollered "Vince, you know the drill," and in a reckless show of strength, jumped through the hole onto the roof of the van.

Leaving noticeable dents on the roof, Croc was blindsided as Batman slammed the back of his head against his face, freeing himself from his grip.

The duo then faced each other off, glaring daggers at each other.

"The Joker card and the spill of Venom were a nice touch, but the claw marks and shotgun shells gave the game away, Waylon." Batman remarked, preparing for Croc to attack.

"You may get me, but I can assure ya that ya won't be getting a look at the goods my boys have stolen!" Croc snarled before charging his foe.

"By the time this tussle's over they'll be long gone." Croc remarked as he grabbed Batman by the cape and hurled himself from the van and into the crowd of cars below.

With a grunt of pain Croc slammed into a Corvette, while the Batman slammed into the side of a Tahoe with equal force, dazing him for a moment before getting up to face the reptilian criminal.

Thinking of safety for himself over all others, Croc held back from using brute force for the moment and unslung his shotgun, firing off a shell.

The Batman rolled out of the way of the shell, the buckshot slamming into the engine block of the Tahoe, and smoke slowly fumed out of the front of the vehicle.

Racking the pump again, he shot again, with the Batman just barely avoiding the shot as buckshot shredded his cape, with the shells continuing onwards into the hood of a Ford F-250.

Pumping the shotgun again, Croc growled in annoyance, pulling the trigger again.

The shotgun clicked empty.

Taking advantage of the turn of events, the Dark Knight rushed forward and in one move wrenched the gun out of Croc's hands with one hand while slugging him in the face with the other.

Stumbling back a step the ex-Marine recovered swiftly, jumping right back into the ring and slamming a fist into Batman's guts, following up with a fist slamming into his unprotected back, flooring him.

What he hadn't expected was that the vigilante wrapped his arms around his legs and twisting himself onto his back, unbalancing Croc and bringing him crashing to the ground.

Now brawling on the ground between cars, snow started falling again, coming down in flakes.

Batman mainly stuck to punches and kicks and grapples, doing everything in his power to avoid Croc's jaws from clamping down on him.

Croc, meanwhile, lashed with every appendage on his body. Clawed hands and feet, a long tail, and finally his signature jaws lashed about, searching for the Batman. His only disadvantage was he was tiring himself through his excessive use of energy combined with the decreasing temperature.

Finally, after much punching, kicking, and brawling, Croc was able to clamp his adversary by the calf and proceeded to hurl him with extreme force into the ground before hurling him away, sending the two-hundred ten pound man flying through the air, coming to rest as he slammed up against the side of a Honda with enough force to cave the door in, causing him to land in the leather backseats.

Killer Croc noticed his temporarily release from the vigilante and dashed for the nearest manhole cover, grabbing his empty shotgun as he went.

With an enormous effort, he lifted the manhole cover, finally noticing his exhaustion from his recent fight.

Hearing police sirens, he turned around in time to see a trio of police cars reach the street of jammed cars, with officers jumping out, handguns ready.

Without a backwards glance, he jumped down towards the dark hole below, his yellow reptilian eyes shining with victory.

Landing on the concrete below, he made another jump this time towards the dirty sewage waters before him.

_"So long pilgrims…"_ he thought to himself as he jumped. He always did love the Duke…

Yet as he fell into the water, he felt a weight on his tail and legs, almost like a vise was wrapping itself around them.

_"Oh shit! The Bat…!"_ he thought as he twisted around, expecting a certain dark caped crusader holding onto him.

Yet his face clearly showed some shock as it turned out that it was a woman holding onto him.

His mind immediately flashed back to a few days before, the night he was captured and sent to the police. This was that same woman. Her name was Ellen…something. Whatever it was, she was still the one that had the guts to grab him right before he flew across an entire street. And now she had the grit to grab him again and repeat the process into the water!

But before he could think further they both hit the water, and hydrogen dioxide and who knows what else enveloped the two of them.

Trying to swim away, he was somewhat shocked to see that the entire time the Asian detective had held onto him, and before he could get far he felt her fist make contact with his crotch, making him instinctively drop his shotgun and grab his nether region in pain. Regardless of species, a low blow there still hurt! Worse he knew a certain someone who pulled off the same stunt during the start of his career in Gotham, and it definitely sunk his pride that someone else pulled off the same stunt.

Then she followed up with a kick with both legs to his gut, forcing out all the air he had inside him.

Scrambling to get air, his clawed foot caught his sinking shotgun, since he wouldn't dare lose the one object from his past life that helped him survive childhood, the tool that put food on the table, and the tool that after some modifications became the same gun he trusted his life with in the Marine Corps.

Just as he was about to break the surface, he felt a weight tugging on his foot, and looking down he saw that the detective was holding onto his shotgun with one hand, the other holding onto some heavy object he couldn't clearly make out at the bottom of the sewer. Whatever it was, it was heavy enough to hold her down and to halt his progress at getting air.

His hands out of the water, grasping for air, he was caught between the choices of escaping and losing the gun, or staying to get it and possibly drowning, which was ironic considering he was part crocodile.

His childhood winning out over logic, he growled underwater with what air he had left and bent down enough to grasp a hand around the shotgun and pulled.

With a heave he lifted the shotgun up and out of the water, though taking Detective Ellen Yin with it in the process, with both landing with a thud and clatter on the cement walkway that he had recently jumped from.

Hauling himself out of the water and landing on all fours in a heap, he looked up to peer right down the barrel of a police-issue pistol.

Ellen Yin smirked as she switched the safety off the pistol. "In the name of the Gotham City PD, I'm putting you under arrest Croc, again."

Sighing in frustration he unwillingly submitted. He may be good, but even his reflex's would not be enough to stop a point-blank shot to his skull, no matter how much reptilian hide he had.

Lifting his hands above his head, he muttered "I surrender."

Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, she kept one hand on the gun while using the other to cuff Croc's hands, though not before pulling them behind his back.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

But Croc didn't listen to her words. Staring up he only barely contained a growl as his eyes made contact with the Batman's, who was standing at the opening of the manhole, peering down with one hand clutching his side.

The criminal glared daggers at him before the vigilante faded away, the only thing coming through the manhole were flecks of snow and the sound of Christmas carols coming through from the street. What he didn't notice was that Detective Yin was also staring up at the Batman with him.

"I hate Christmas." He muttered as he was helped to his feet and escorted up the ladder to the police officers above.

He turned his head to see news vans and reporters flashing pictures at him and talking to the officers holding them at bay.

Noticing a familiar face within the crowd, he bowed his head in sorrow. It wouldn't do for Meredith to see him brought so low.


	12. An Unconventional Solution

An Unconventional Solution to a Big-Ass Problem

December 17, Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, approximately 2250 hours

Killer Croc said nothing as he was escorted into a cell. The two officers who led him in made sure that their heavy duty handcuffs were securely placed before leaving the cell.

Further down the line, he heard the sounds of a scuffle breaking out, with the sound of a fist smacking flesh visibly heard.

Taking a moment to let one of his eyes peer down the hallway, he noticed that of all the villains that were out there it was one of the Joker's henchmen. The hulking individual in a disgusting clown costume had just punched a large, fat cop in the face. Though he couldn't tell whether it was Punch or Judy, he knew that if one was around, the Joker was in business somewhere. As for the cop, judging by the trench coat and fedora, it definitely wasn't your average cop.

"Boys, restrain that bastard!" the law enforcement officer yelled, pulling out his personal handgun. It certainly wasn't a kinky sci-fi throw-off that's for sure. It was a black .357 Magnum Revolver, and judging by the 5' barrel and the guy keeping his finger off the trigger, he definitely knew how to use it.

Just then another voice erupted from the end of the hallway, and without even turning his head he knew it was detective Yin.

"Bullock, stop getting into fights with the suspects!" she yelled from down the hall. "If you need to vent energy, dump it on the ones on the street!"

Grudgingly Detective Harvey Bullock holstered his pistol into his large belt, his large pot-belly leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Whatever you say, boss." He muttered before turning away and walking off, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he went.

As Croc heard Yin sigh in frustration he noticed that the chief of police, Rojas, had barged in and started yelling at her.

"What the hell was that about?" he barked, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Can't you restrain your own detectives?"

"Yes, Chief." She replied, with a hint of restraint in her voice.

"Well right now your control is not enough. If you can't control your fellow detectives I'm going to have to demote you." The Chief said with finality before barging into his office and slamming the door shut.

The detective in frustration slammed her fist at the hallway wall, with her only reward being the beginnings of a bruise.

Then Commissioner James Gordon walked down the hallway, the bottom of his trench coat flowing behind him he moved so quickly. His voice was a barely restrained bark, surprise evident on his face as he spoke on his cell phone.

"What do you mean Blackgate Penitentiary does not have room?" he nearly roared. "The place is even bigger than Arkham Asylum, and that's saying something! I've got over a dozen criminals in the PD HQ and almost half of them are considered insane enough to be placed into Arkham if half the place had not been damaged last week!"

With a flurry of words between the commissioner and the man over at Blackgate Gordon finally hung up the phone and turned to face Detective Yin.

"Detective Yin, I've got some bad news for you." He reluctantly told her.

"What is it?" she questioned, nursing her wounded hand.

"Well, due to overcrowding in Blackgate and damage to Arkham, we really have no choice but to hold all the prisoners in here until further notice."

"What, so your saying that your letting a group of the biggest criminals in Gotham stay under my departments roof?" a voice hollered from inside a room.

Rojas barged out of his office, his face contorted in rage. "You expect me to hold for an indefinite period of time a bunch of loons that would be able to decapitate the cities police if even one escaped, let alone nearly a dozen?"

"If I may make a suggestion, Commissioner." Another voice muttered, and in response the trio of law-enforcement officers and Croc turned their heads as one to peer at the doorway of Chief Rojas office.

And their stood none other than the Batman. Whatever injury or pain he had only hours before, he didn't seem to show as he stepped forward a step to stand in front of the officers, with some of the officers on duty stopping to stare at the vigilante.

"You!" Rojas blasted out, spit flying from his lip. "Boys, arrest him!"

But before any of the police officers could respond Gordon raised his hand. "Everyone, stand down. That's an order!"

Lowering his hand, Gordon asked "Whats your idea, Batman?"

Staring warily at Rojas before turning towards the middle-aged commissioner, he replied.

"I suggest relocating lower-risk criminals to a single location of the city, where they can be kept under guard by your best officers. Use Rojas Special Weapons and Tactics Team he trained if you want good security."

Grudgingly Rojas grumbled "I think I have to agree with Bat's now.", before coming up with another comment.

"Then what about the loon's, Batman?" he retorted, pointing a finger at Croc. "What do you want to do, take them all under your eye?"

"Unfortunately I'm too busy hunting down the Joker as well as other major criminals." Batman countered, pulling from his belt a playing card of a Joker, though this one was modified to carry a ludicrously large smile across the Joker's face.

Putting the card away, he continued. "Since as of right now your only major cases are Croc, Punch, and Riddler, I suggest having them moved to a safe location and put under the guard of an officer or two. The less noise you make in moving them, the better off they'll be. You don't want the wrong kind of attention noticing a team of cops in certain spots in the city.

"Good idea." Detective Yin replied. "But where exactly can we move them? Their aren't many places that we can inconspicuously hide a criminal, let alone a three major ones."

"Why don't you try the one place nobody would look," Batman answered. "How about the home of a police officer?"

While Chief Rojas sputtered in shock, both Gordon and Yin arched an eyebrow, with Gordon going so far as to rub his moustache in concentration.

"You know, that may not be that bad an idea." Gordon said at last. "But we'll have to keep them fed and bedded down, not to mention we'll have to take measures that they won't escape. Ultimately we'll have to find the right balance between taking enough cops off the street to deal with this without losing valuable manpower in hunting down these escaped convicts."

Looking up, he saw that the Batman was already gone, the window inside Rojas office open and the curtains fluttering in the wind.

"I really need to know how he does that." Commissioner Gordon remarked, scratching his head.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Detective Yin replied, turning around to shove past Chief Rojas and walk down the hall. "If you need me, I'll be collecting a host of candidates to guard these guys."


	13. Police Decision Making Skills

Police Decision-Making Skills

December 18, Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, approximately 0045 hours

Waylon Jones started to snooze off in the corner of his cell, content to being left alone for the most part, the only distraction being the occasional police officer walking past.

Then he woke himself up with a start as he heard a key being turned near him, opening his eyes in time to see his cell door open from the corner of his eye.

Turning to face the bars he looked over a pair of police officers, one of whom looked like he was new on the job since he already had his hand on his service pistol and his finger was already on the trigger.

_'Poor trigger discipline.'_ He thought to himself. _'The guy could just as easily shoot himself as he could pull that out and shoot me.'_

Without a word he got onto his two feet, which was a minor miracle considering his hands were still tied behind his back. Stepping up to the two officers he casually yet sarcastically asked with a grin of his intimidating three-inch whoppers of teeth "So where to now, boys?"

The two each took one side of him and started to escort him down the hall, forgetting to close his cell door behind him.

"Boys, I think ya missed somethin' back there." He remarked, casually nodding his head at his cell.

With a sense of urgency one of them rushed back to close the door and pull the key out before returning.

_'New guys. Totally new guys.'_ He thought to himself as he strode ahead, forcing his escorts to catch up to his large stride. At least everyone around him could see who was in charge of the situation.

As he walked down the line of cells he noticed that the cells of the other major criminals, Riddler and Punch's, were empty. The lesser criminals, however, were still in their cells, sneering and jeering at each other or at the cops around them. A few of the cops with guts pulled out their pistols and told them to shut up or they'd get shot, which worked most of the time.

Croc kept on walking until he reached an elevator and waited for a few minutes as his two guards caught up. While the reptilian man could just shove his way through the crowd, the cops didn't have nearly four hundred pounds of muscle to help them so they suffered in struggling to get through a crowd of cops and detectives.

One of the escorts stayed behind the criminal a good meter away, eying Waylon Jones tail.

As the group waited for the elevator to come down, Waylon Jones looked to his left and stared out the front door of the GCPD building, and looked upon the snow falling outside. Cars trudged along at rates so slow that the people walking outside were moving faster, at such a rate that by the time a car made a few meters a pedestrian could've walked for about as much as a entire city block.

Killer Croc looked away from the doorway, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He knew that his hide wouldn't last five minutes in those near-freezing temperatures. He also knew that by then the Batman would have caught him and dragged him back with no trouble at all.

As the elevator doors opened he shoved his way past the guard before him and rested his back against the back of the elevator. The guard cops cautiously followed him in, both of them having their hands on their pistols.

Leaning against the wall, he noticed a pack of cigarettes in the back pocket of one of the guards.

"Not mind if I have a smoke?" he grumbled out at him, and the guard turned around, and reluctantly, after doing a double-take to make sure Croc's cuffs were on, he pulled a cigarette out and a lighter.

Croc shook his head. "Just give me the cigarette. I've been trying to quit on that stuff for years."

Confused, the guard gingerly shoved the cigar into the reptile's mouth.

Gnashing furiously on the tip in his mouth, he muttered out "It's a good way to relieve stress."

And true enough, by the time the elevator stopped the cigarette was chewed to bits and the remnants were spat onto the ground by Waylon Jones.

The elevator doors opened up and Waylon shouldered his way past the two guards, putting enough force behind the shoves to bring both of them crashing to the floor.

He paused as he looked behind and snickered at the looks of anger and frustration at the two rookies.

"Well, are we going or not?" he snarled out, making the cops jump to their feet in surprise.

The officers in response ineffectively wrapped their arms around his own and guided him to a door at the end of the hallway.

He was escorted into what looked like a briefing room, with an oval table dominating the center and over a dozen chairs seated around it. The Riddler and Punch were already seated, cuffed to their chairs and a pair of cops. At the far end stood Commissioner James Gordon, Chief of Police Angel Rojas, and Detectives Harvey Bullock and Ellen Yin.

Seating himself down and forcing his escorts to scramble in order to cuff him, he tilted his seat back and rested his clawed feet on the table.

Chief Rojas and Detective Bullock looked pissed at the action, but the glares from the Commissioner and Detective Yin had them hold their peace on the matter.

"Now I assume you all are wondering why I am dumb enough to bring three major criminals into the same room as some of the most important cops in town." Gordon started off, with Punch giving no hint of a reply, the Riddler returning the comment with a riddle, and Croc giving a slight shake of his head.

"Well, due to some technical difficulties with Arkham, I am relocating you all to a small facility in the heart of the city, where you will be guarded by Detective Bullock and Detective Yin."

Rojas then turned towards the Commissioner in response, a look of rage on his face.

"I thought we agreed I would have a hand-picked squad from my SWAT team selected to deal with this!"

"Well I'd rather not make their location conspicuous." Gordon replied. "And I'm pretty sure a squad of SWAT officers with body armor and automatic weapons counts as conspicuous."

Turning away from them, he gestured at the two Detectives. "You two make sure you report to the armory before taking these loons. I want you to leave here with at least a shotgun and an assault rifle in your hands."

Bullock grinned in response and nodded his assent, whereas Yin retorted with "Isn't that a bit much?" She then looked down at her police-issued pistol before saying "If you want me to I can carry my personal pistol on top of this."

"Not if it's babysitting three wacko's, especially if one of them has got a hide strong enough to stop bullets." Rojas countered.

He then turned to the Commissioner. "And what are we going to do with the other loons out there, like Poison Ivy and Scarecrow? We can't just let the Batman deal with all of them."

Croc then interrupted. "I doubt you'll be having a problem with Ivy."

"And what makes you think that, gatorboy?" Rojas angrily barked back.

"She's part plant. Since it's the middle of winter and we're snowed in, I'm pretty sure she will simply try to conserve her strength and sleep until winters over."

"Sounds logical enough." Gordon remarked, before understanding the reason the criminal was trying to explain himself. He was trying to goad Rojas into a rage, and he was doing a great job of it too.

"And you're trying to convince me not to go against a plant-woman that at one point nearly had the entire city in the palm of her hand? Not likely!"

"Can it, Chief." Gordon snapped, his patience beginning to run thin. "For now we handle the major cases already in hand. We'll deal with the other nut cases later." He paused before muttering under his breath "Unless the Batman gets them for us."

He turned back towards Yin and Bullock. "These guys will be placed in a modified prison transport vehicle to be transported to the apartment building that the department has selected. Written information will be available in the car itself. You will stay with them until we inform you that they will be transported later."

He turned to Bullock and added in "And if you like, Detective, you can pack whatever heat you like."

Bullock smiled at that before turning away to leave. "I'll meet up with you at the car, Yin. I've got some loading up to do."

Yin shook her head before asking "These guys getting escorted down there?"

"Yes." Rojas interjected. "_Heavily_ escorted."

She too turned away, stating "Just let me collect my stuff and I'll be ready to go."

As the two Detectives left, Croc stared across the table and took in the sight of the Riddler and Punch. So he was going to be stuck with them for an undetermined period of time. He could feel that things would get ugly.

He turned his gaze away in time to see four of Rojas's flaunted SWAT members walked in, carrying Colt M4 carbines and Benelli M4 shotguns, and gestured for the trio of criminals to stand.

He lifted himself up with little difficulty, with the Riddler grudgingly following suit. Punch, however, proved stubborn enough that it took two of the officers to haul him out of his seat, as well as a hit to the face from the stock of one of their guns.

They were formed up in a single file, with the Riddler taking the lead and Punch trailing in the rear.

After taking multiple stairwells and elevators, the small band ended up in a place familiar to him, the PD parking lot.

A large van, most likely a retrofitted SWAT van, sat in the middle of the lot. Detective Bullock and Detective Yin were already there, both hurling bags with their belongings into the driver's section of the vehicle.

Yin had a large jacket thrown over her red shirt, as well as a leather holster under her other armpit, exposing a pair of pistols on her bodice.

Bullock, however, looked kitted out for war. Even though he wore his usual trench coat and fedora, he had his .357 revolver relocated to his hip, an M4 carbine slung over his shoulder and, pardon the pun, an M1897 Riot Gun being tossed into shotgun. His trench coat seemed to bulge with ammunition as he stooped to pick up some shotgun shells that fell out of a pocket.

They all trudged into the back of the van before plopping ourselves onto the benches inside. Riddler and I took one side of the van while Punch, due to his massive bulk, took the other side. Three of the SWAT officers followed them in, with two taking a short bench that rest on the wall that separated the driver's seat and shotgun from the rest of the van and another took a seat on one of two stools that rested against the doors on the back of the van. The fourth one stepped into the shotgun position and picked up the riot gun in the seat before closing the door on his side.

Bullock himself took the other stool and set himself down against the doors at the back of the van as well before he slammed the twin doors shut. The click of the lock being turned in the doors signaled Yin had finished the job.

Ellen Yin took her place in the driver's seat of the vehicle and put the key in the ignition, starting up the engine.

As the van was put into reverse and lined up for a clear shot at the parking lot exit, Croc heard the universal sign to not pull anything funny when the SWAT officer in shotgun racked the pump on his riot gun.

He grumbled on the bench as the van drove out of the parking garage and met the full force of the snow. The snow fell even harder and hail started to form, the small balls of ice making a slight pattering sound on the van as it trundled into the darkness.


	14. The Weather Outside is Frightful

The Weather Outside is Frightful

Gotham City

Approximately 0145

Outside temperature: 32.6 degrees Fahrenheit

The van trundled along the road, keeping under 20 miles an hour as the hail came down harder. Cars clogged the street, and those that didn't move to the side in time were met with dings, scratches and dents.

The criminals in the back stayed quiet as the three SWAT officers and Bullock kept their eyes on them.

The Joker henchman seemed to hold a whispered conversation with the Riddler, and from the looks of it they were speaking about something important, because Bullock butted in and asked "What the hell are you two yapping about?"

The Riddler smiled and replied "What is closed, yet open to all, and comes at the end of all jokes?"

"Quit bantering with me, freak! Shut up!" Bullock started to holler, getting up from his stool.

Punch then suddenly stood up and with a swing of his fist sent Bullock slamming into the back of the van, unconscious. The other fist floored the two SWAT officers by the front of the van and sent them sprawling, giving Riddler enough time to grab one of the M4's and slamming the butt of it against the back of their heads, putting them out of consciousness.

"It's a punch-line!" Riddler answered with glee as he saw the SWAT officer recover from the turn of events.

The final officer stood up and pulled the trigger, a three-round burst catching the Joker's henchman in the shoulder before he too went down from one of Punch's fists.

As he kicked the rear doors open Croc just watched and snarled as the snow and hail entered the van. The cold temperature caused him to start shivering as the other two exited the vehicle, blood dripping to the floor as Punch clutched his shot shoulder.

He heard the doors up front slam open as the criminals rushed out into the street, Punch stumbling about while the Riddler went into an all-out sprint.

Shotgun blasts rang out as the hail came down even harder. Croc saw three shots totally miss the Riddler as he slunk into an alleyway. The other two were aimed at Punch, who got clipped in the calf as a few pellets hit him. He stumbled on as the officer gave chase.

The last thing he remembered was seeing Detective Yin come to the open back doors and survey the scene. He saw her check the pulse of Bullock and the SWAT officer right outside, and saw her shake her head in remorse at the SWAT officer.

Right as he lost consciousness he heard her say "He's dead…"

Detective Ellen Yin put the bodies of the SWAT officer and Bullock into the back of the van, the dead officer already losing body temperature due to the cold night air.

She noticed as she got in that Killer Croc never left the vehicle, and his shivering, unconscious body lay there on the floor.

She went up to check on the other two officers and checked to see that they were fine. However, she bit her lip as she saw that one of the officers M4 carbines were missing.

'_Must've been the Riddler…'_ she thought as she turned around to see Croc again. _'At this rate he could die of hypothermia…'_

She was torn as she saw the hardened criminal impotent on the floor. Her brain told her to let him die as a criminal, but her heart told her that she would never be able to let someone, even a criminal, die while she could prevent it.

She thought over it for only a moment before making a decision.

With a groan she lifted the upper half of Killer Croc from the floor as she turned around and aimed a kick at the doors. As they flew open she dragged the unconscious man out of the back and hauled him to the passenger side of the van.

Setting him down for a moment she opened the side door before painstakingly putting him into the seat.

Slamming the door shut she did the same to the back doors as well as locking them before climbing into the driver's seat and turning the heater on at full blast.

Putting the pedal to the accelerator she hurled the vehicle down the street towards its destination. She may have lost two criminals, but she wasn't going to lose another, and by extension the mission given to her by Commissioner Gordon. If their was one thing she absolutely hated to do it was letting him down. Rojas she didn't give a damn about, but Gordon was a far better individual to take orders from.

The van came to an abrupt halt before the apartment address given to her. Turning to look to her right she saw Croc was no longer shivering, but neither was he conscious.

Looking through the back grille she saw that none of the other cops were conscious either.

Sighing she turned off the van engine but kept the heater going as she got out and unlocked the back doors. Thinking about opening it, she thought better of it.

'_They can get their asses out themselves. Serves them right for getting their asses kicked inside their own vehicle.'_

Opening the side door, she flipped the latch off her shoulder holster, giving her easier access to the M1911A1 on her upper body.

With a heave she hauled the criminal out of the side by his vest, kicking the door shut when she was done, before hauling his scaly carcass up the steps to the apartment door. Yanking a key out of her jacket, she cautiously multi-tasked opening the door with keeping the unconscious Killer Croc from slipping from her grasp.

Yanking him inside she slammed the door shut, before finding an elevator and pressing the button.

Reading the directions given to her earlier by Bullock in the armory, the elevator doors opened. She pressed the fifth floor button and waited as the elevator climbed, adjusting her grip on the heavy crocodile man in her grasp.

Slowly dragging him out as the elevator doors opened once more she read the directions once more and found the room they were given. Using the same key from before to open the room she felt tired as she dragged him into the room. Shutting the door quietly she gave a finally heave as she dropped him to the floor, her strength drained.

Finding a couch inside she flopped onto it, not caring that her hair was disheveled from the ordeal and that strands were wildly out of place. Her face was gaunt as she put he hand on the GCPD pistol on her hip. She knew that until the other guys came to she would have to keep an eye on him.

A cool chill entered the room and Yin shot up, turning her gaze to the window. A shadowy figure crouched on the sill, and a familiar voice told her "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye on him for now."

And with that she nodded and fell back into the couch. She was asleep in seconds.

The dark knight stood on his perch for a few moments, watching the detective fall asleep. Then he silently went inside, heading for the unconscious form of Croc.

Crouching down, he removed a syringe from his belt and embedded it into Croc's arm, injecting the fluid swiftly and painlessly.

Walking to a table next to the sleeping detective, he set down four more of them with a note on top. It said; Heavy sedative. Use only in emergency.

He headed for the windowsill, towards the cold snow outside. Turning back to glance at the two sleeping figures once more, he fired his grappling hook at a gargoyle down the street and swung away, leaving like a silent wraith.

**My apologies for the after-Christmas chapter, but IMO this is a crappier chapter I've written. Hopefully my mind can come up with better chapters in the near-future.**


End file.
